


Fluttering Among the Faint

by DostoevskyBrosK



Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe, Don't copy to another site, F/M, I just love Georgiana and Darcy being best friend sibling friends, Sweet Brother and Sister Relationship, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29360361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DostoevskyBrosK/pseuds/DostoevskyBrosK
Summary: Fitzwilliam Darcy was one of the few humans born with wings – his are almost purely black. Now that he is 28, they are lush, huge, and stunning. However, Darcy scrupulously always keeps them hidden. Besides, this has not been his year: his sister was hurt deeply, he ruined a friendship, and he was rejected by the love of his life. Can he somehow turn things around?
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy, Fitzwilliam Darcy & Georgiana Darcy
Comments: 113
Kudos: 166





	1. Stars without a Name

**Author's Note:**

> I love a wingfic, so I decided to try it. I hope y’all enjoy. This time I will be using poems by the sweet Keats –he is such a love. The title for this whole work is also where I got the title for the first chapter: “Ode to Psyche” (see endnote for the whole poem).  
> Note: This story is written by me (although obviously inspired by another's work). I do not want this posted anywhere else.  
> © All rights reserved.  
> No part of this publication (unless for personal use) may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, stored in a database and / or published in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Looking out at the bleak streets of London, Darcy sighed. _They seem to reflect my inner state rather accurately._ Several months had passed since his failed proposal to one Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and Darcy would have thought he would be able to move past it. However, he still thought of her at least once every hour. _More like once every minute._ Darcy grumped to himself. _How am I ever going to move past her? Why is she the only woman I have ever been fascinated by? Everything about her suited me so well. I love her teasing nature and her approach to life._ He did not realize that a small smile crept across her face. _When I think about the way she handled Aunt Catherine at Rosings. What a marvel._ He shook his head at himself firmly. _But I am not to see her again, so dreaming about her is not helping anything._

Darcy unconsciously adjusted his bound wings, held tightly in a binder that strapped several times around him, culminating in a relatively small bump on his back. Darcy had always thought of them as outside of himself. A strange aberration against nature. It was not that they were completely rare. Enough people had them to make them rather popular. In fact, when Darcy had been at Cambridge it had been quite the fashion for the young men to pretend to be winged. Usually, they were taken as a sign of prestige. They gave you a little step up against anyone else because they were magnificent to look at.

However, Darcy’s were different and even rarer in the wing phenomenon. His wings were huge, having thrice the wingspan of his own arms compared to the more typical two. They were rich and velvety, and Georgiana would often help him groom them, enjoying the wonderful feel of them. No, what made Darcy’s wings problematic for him was the color. When he was born, his mother had taken an immediate dislike to them. Darcy always secretly wondered what she thought of him, as the wings were attached to him. But he would try to push that thought aside. She had died so many years ago, and he had rather embraced her feelings of his wings. Since she always bound them when he was young, he continued doing so after she passed.

Of the few people who knew about Darcy’s wings, an even fewer number had seen them. Georgiana was constantly telling him how beautiful they were, but he could not quite allow himself to believe her. _If they are so beautiful, why did Mother shudder at the sight of them? She barely touched me as it was, but if my wings were out, she could not bring herself to touch me for at least a month after seeing them._ Darcy shook his head. _Why am I thinking about all of this again?_

His wings itched to be free, as if responding to his question. _I suppose it has been several months since I have let them out._ They were pestering him constantly because it had, in fact, been over a year since they had been properly free to fly. _I will ignore them for the time being. It is not as if it matters. I cannot damage them._ Darcy looked out of the window darkly. _I almost wish I could. Is there something in me tainted? The wings knew I would be this way and so marked me? Elizabeth did not even know of the wings and easily marked me as the last man on earth she would ever consider marrying._

Darcy took a deep breath and turned quickly away from the window, trying to leave his thoughts with it. He sat down at his desk, which was neatly organized. He had gotten rather into organization over the past several months. And he searched in vain for something to do. He was sure his accounts had never been so carefully poured over, checked and double checked. He had reorganized all of the books in his library in London, making a comprehensive list of them to cross check them against the list he intended to create at Pemberley.

He reached behind his back and itched again at the place where his wings joined into his back. With his head down, reading a letter he would normally have simply discarded, he barely noticed the opening of the door.

“Are they bothering you again, Brother?” Georgiana asked as she walked in.

His head shot up. “Georgie! How are you this morning?”

“I am very well, thank you for asking. Now, do not avoid my question. Are your wings bothering you? Do you need to unbind them and let me help you groom them?”

She almost sounded eager, which brought a fond smile to Darcy’s face. _At least they do not disgust Georgiana, but heaven knows why._ He picked a bit at the binder. _It is terribly uncomfortable_.

Georgiana grabbed his arm, “Come on, William. Let us go to the library. Now that you have finally put all the books back where they belong, it will give us ample room to care for your wings.” She practically dragged him behind her, but he could feel a smile tugging at his lips. _Why was I blessed with such a wonderful sister?_

Georgiana directed him to their favorite place to do this. It mostly hid Darcy from view if anyone were to inadvertently come in the room, and Georgiana was able to get rid of them quickly enough before they ever saw the wings unbound. Most of the staff at Pemberley and at their house in London knew about the master’s wings but liked their place enough to not talk about them, especially as none of them had actually seen them, making them feel more like a rumor rather than reality. It was hard to picture their perfectly put together master with a set of enormous wings sprouting from his back. Or at least, that is what Darcy imagined.

“William. Come on. I need your help.” Georgiana mumbled as she tried to pull the binder off her brother. “Why is this thing so difficult to manage.”

Darcy turned around to her laughing. “You have been doing this ever since you were a little girl and you still have trouble over it.” He undid the buckles quickly enough, sighing in relief as they sprung free.

Georgiana let out a small gasp. “Even so, I never get tired of seeing your wings, William.” She quickly set about her task, happily helping her brother.

Darcy stretched his wings out. _Wow. I really do need this._ He curved them playfully around Georgiana who giggled. _She has never been scared of them. Could I ever find someone to accept them?_

The Darcys owned quite a few books on the winged, which Mrs. Darcy had read voraciously once her child was revealed to be one of them. The books were hardly an exhaustive exploration into the phenomena, but they did hold some very good illustrations of the types of wings people had. And of their colorings. Mrs. Darcy was troubled by how unnatural the whole thing seemed to her, but really it was because her son had inky black wings that seemed to swallow all light. Worse still, they seemed to be tipped in bright red paint. None of the books they owned or the other ones she procured ever had a person with such pure black wings, tinged in red. Perhaps if Mrs. Darcy had not first thought of Satan, she would have come around to accept her son, but she _did_ first think of the devil. She was always worried that she had given birth to Satan on earth, and therefore told everyone that others would think the same. She wanted to spare her child the branding of being the devil, and so had taken pains to keep the wings hidden from everyone.

Georgiana was too young to remember her mother, and she thought that Darcy simply did not want the additional attention being winged would be sure to bring him, especially when getting married. If she had known it was tied to the fact that when Darcy was a boy, he was used to hearing his mother mumble about how he was the devil born on earth, she would have been horrified. She thought the wings categorically magnificent, and she especially loved the color. They suited her brother so well. Stern, but somehow incredibly warm. Fearsome yet kind. She smiled as she stroked the feathers gently.

“You should fly back to Pemberley, you know. You have that one suit I commissioned for you, like such a good sister. It fits you so well, and lets your wings be free! No one would know it was you, especially if you flew high enough, and it would do you some good. If you are worried, carry your binder and one of your other shirts with you. It has been far too long since you actually used them.” She poked Darcy who yelped a little.

“Georgie!”

“Well, admit it. When was the last time you flew? And I mean flew flew!”

“I am not really sure. I cannot rightly remember.”

“Well, that is answer enough. Tell everyone you need to go ahead by a few days on business or something and have Thomas ride your horse to Pemberley.”

Darcy could not help laughing. “You have it all planned out for me.”

“Of course, I do. Someone needs to make sure you take care of yourself, Brother.”

Darcy turned around, hugging his sister. “Thank you, Georgiana.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Darcy had decided to listen to Georgiana and had never been so happy to. It was the perfect day for flying. Clear, bright, warm, and wonderful. He had taken off from Hyde Park where the winged were allowed to fly if they would like. Sometimes it garnered a large crowd who wanted to watch the amazing sight of so many winged flying. But Darcy made sure he woke up early enough that there was no one about – at least no one who could see the colors of his wings, it being still too dark to see.

He wove in and out of the clouds, making it a game for himself, feeling free and happy. It always seemed to be like this when he would fly. It felt as if he could touch the sun, and he felt more at peace with the world in the air. Yet, he did it so rarely because his mother’s feelings still itched at the back of his mind. Always. A constant worry that was rarely consciously acknowledged. 

_Let it go. Do not think about it. This is the time to enjoy what you do not often get to do, Darcy._ He wheeled around in ever widening arcs, simply luxuriating in the feeling.

After what seemed too short a time, Darcy spied Pemberley. He thought the house looked at its best advantage from the sky, but he had only even taken Georgiana up to see it. She used to beg all the time as a small girl to go flying with him, and he would love to sneak out with her and zip around. Then, somehow, his father had found out and been quite angry. It was the only time Darcy could remember his father losing his temper, and it had quickly put an end to their secret rides, even though Georgiana used to beg for them even years later.

He angled himself down, aiming for his favorite spot to land. He was not fully paying attention because he was so caught up in the joy of the flying. In fact, he wanted to land a bit aggressively, so he tucked his head in and tried to gain as much momentum as possible, barreling towards the ground. Darcy could not stop laughing at his own carefree freedom. He never let himself have this openness, and he was feeling heady with it. 

It seemed like just one second before he made impact with the ground, a person appeared in peripheral vision, clearly moving into the direction he was heading. He tried to call out a warning, but he was sure it got swallowed up by the wind he himself was creating.

Sure enough, when he landed on the ground of his home, he hit the person who had probably come to look at the house. _This is going to be uncomfortable._ Darcy did not want to knock the person over, so he quickly and carefully angled his wings to make sure they took the burnt of the fall. He also tightened his arms around the person, holding them in his strong arms to make sure they did not get hurt. _If my careless flying hurts someone, it really will be clear that I am what Mother always feared. I should not be so selfish._

They seemed to tumble about for a while, but it was only a few seconds, and then they came to a stop. Darcy was still clutching the person in his arms and tried to quickly move to set them upright and check them over for any damage. However, just as he was setting them to rights, he noticed who he had in his arms. Who he had run into. Who he had made fall. Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the full poem of Keats’s “Ode to Psyche:”  
> O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung  
> By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,  
> And pardon that thy secrets should be sung  
> Even into thine own soft-conched ear:  
> Surely I dreamt to-day, or did I see  
> The winged Psyche with awaken'd eyes?  
> I wander'd in a forest thoughtlessly,  
> And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise,  
> Saw two fair creatures, couched side by side  
> In deepest grass, beneath the whisp'ring roof  
> Of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran  
> A brooklet, scarce espied:
> 
> Mid hush'd, cool-rooted flowers, fragrant-eyed,  
> Blue, silver-white, and budded Tyrian,  
> They lay calm-breathing, on the bedded grass;  
> Their arms embraced, and their pinions too;  
> Their lips touch'd not, but had not bade adieu,  
> As if disjoined by soft-handed slumber,  
> And ready still past kisses to outnumber  
> At tender eye-dawn of aurorean love:  
> The winged boy I knew;  
> But who wast thou, O happy, happy dove?  
> His Psyche true!
> 
> O latest born and loveliest vision far  
> Of all Olympus' faded hierarchy!  
> Fairer than Phoebe's sapphire-region'd star,  
> Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky;  
> Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none,  
> Nor altar heap'd with flowers;  
> Nor virgin-choir to make delicious moan  
> Upon the midnight hours;  
> No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet  
> From chain-swung censer teeming;  
> No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat  
> Of pale-mouth'd prophet dreaming.
> 
> O brightest! though too late for antique vows,  
> Too, too late for the fond believing lyre,  
> When holy were the haunted forest boughs,  
> Holy the air, the water, and the fire;  
> Yet even in these days so far retir'd  
> From happy pieties, thy lucent fans,  
> Fluttering among the faint Olympians,  
> I see, and sing, by my own eyes inspir'd.  
> So let me be thy choir, and make a moan  
> Upon the midnight hours;  
> Thy voice, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet  
> From swinged censer teeming;  
> Thy shrine, thy grove, thy oracle, thy heat  
> Of pale-mouth'd prophet dreaming.
> 
> Yes, I will be thy priest, and build a fane  
> In some untrodden region of my mind,  
> Where branched thoughts, new grown with pleasant pain,  
> Instead of pines shall murmur in the wind:  
> Far, far around shall those dark-cluster'd trees  
> Fledge the wild-ridged mountains steep by steep;  
> And there by zephyrs, streams, and birds, and bees,  
> The moss-lain Dryads shall be lull'd to sleep;  
> And in the midst of this wide quietness  
> A rosy sanctuary will I dress  
> With the wreath'd trellis of a working brain,  
> With buds, and bells, and stars without a name,  
> With all the gardener Fancy e'er could feign,  
> Who breeding flowers, will never breed the same:  
> And there shall be for thee all soft delight  
> That shadowy thought can win,  
> A bright torch, and a casement ope at night,  
> To let the warm Love in!


	2. She Dwells with Beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are not doing so great here in my part of the world. I live in Texas, and we have been hit hard by the winter storm. To say we are unused to this kind of weather is an understatement. I have lived in Texas most of my life, and I can count on one hand the number of times it has snowed and stuck on the ground. Now we have half a foot! My poor sister and her family (she has a 3yr old and a 2yr old) have been without electricity the past two days in 8 F weather. So that’s not great. At my house (a little further out in the country), Pennyworth and I have no water. So, I’ve been having to boil a ton of snow and stuff and JUST ARGH! Trying not to borrow trouble, but I am feeling the stress of being without water for the rest of the week and maybe my pipes bursting, etc. It seems like the pipes may be frozen for the whole area? Y’ALL I am struggling. Let’s hope this story can help warm y’all up wherever you’re at. Stay safe, everyone!

Darcy blinked rather stupidly at the woman still in his arms. They were circled around her, and his wings, which were opening up again after trying to soften their fall, gently caressed the cheek of Elizabeth. Darcy would have been shocked at his behavior, but when his wings were free, they acted mostly on instinct, and it seemed like it would have been easier to stop the course of the sun in the sky than to stop his wings gently touching the woman he gave his heart to. Had he had the presence of mind to be aware of it, he would have realized that her cheeks blushed at the caress. He would have marveled at how warm it made Elizabeth look.

However, Darcy was too busy panicking to take note of any of these things. _But – what?_ _Why would Miss Bennet be here? MISS ELIZABETH IS HERE? At Pemberley? Did she change her mind? No – what? That does not even make sense._ Darcy felt like he could not get enough breath, and he wondered if Elizabeth could tell he was panting. _Maybe she will think it is from the flying. Good God, the flying. This cannot be happening. Did I hit my head on my flight? Am I imagining it? That seems more likely. But look at how beautiful her eyes are. They shine. They always have. Get it together, man._

Elizabeth felt good in his arms, and he longed to pull her closer into a proper hold. He also felt a sensation he had never had before: he longed to circle his wings around both of them. Hiding them from prying eyes. _I could always keep her safe, in the shadows of my wings._ Darcy shook his head. He was already much ashamed of himself.

He quickly moved to set her down, making sure she was alright to stand, which she seemed to be. _Surely several minutes have passed and neither of us have said anything. What is there to say, I suppose? She probably came all this way to provide me with more details about why I am such a selfish, prideful man_. _And I would probably need them because I would not have realized I was even doing any of that._ His heart sank within him yet again.

Here, Elizabeth Bennet stood before him, where he had pictured her for over half a year, since he finally admitted to himself that he loved her after he had left Netherfield. He would often close his eyes and call Pemberley to mind, inserting her in his favorite places and imaging how she would respond to the beauty of this area. She looked like she belonged. Small strands of her hair that escaped her bonnet blew with the fierce Derbyshire wind. _I bet she would love climbing the mountains and seeing all the wonderous views this area has to offer_. _Why are you thinking about that? The woman you STILL love despite her unequivocal rejection of you is here at your house. But more importantly she is staring at your ridiculous wings. If she did not hate you enough already . . ._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elizabeth had been admiring the view of the grounds at Pemberley _To think – all of this I could have been mistress of. Ridiculous_. She was just going to walk a bit further down when she heard the strangest whistling sound. When she looked up, she saw what looked to be a man caught by a crow falling towards her. She was too stunned and baffled to do anything, so she just stood there watching in confusion.

She expected this to hurt rather badly, but instead, the man ( _Oh, he is one of the winged._ Elizabeth felt gleefully excited because she, as so many, found them to be extraordinarily beautiful) circled her in both his wings and his arms. _They are so strong wrapped around me. This is far more intimate than even dancing._ The surprise of it made her smile.

For a few moments, Elizabeth was lost in this man’s presence. It seemed to be completely dark, and her face was pressed into his neck. The smell of sandalwood and sweat enveloped her. At any other time she would have thought the smell repulsive and her position inappropriate, but here she just kind of melted into his arms. _I know this smell. It is on that letter – Oh MY – it is Mr. Darcy._ She would have tried to pull back, but they still seemed to be tumbling a bit and the wings that encircled them both made everything seem warm and private and for those small seconds, nothing felt wrong or out of place.

Darcy quickly righted her and seemed to be trying to make sure everything was alright with her when she noticed his first realization of who she was. He looked mainly befuddled like he was trying to figure out what happened. She would have said something, but this was the first chance she had to look at his wings. _I cannot believe Mr. Darcy is one of the winged. I would never have guessed. He seems so buttoned up, and I always thought the winged were known for their connection to freedom._ Seeing his wings, Elizabeth unknowingly lifted her hand, as if to stroke the smooth, fine looking feathers. _They look so velvety and soft. And wow, their color._ Elizabeth happily took in the deep blackness, like a raven, but even richer. _Almost like ebony really._ She wanted to stroke them, especially because of the entrancing gleam of red that sparked along the edges. _They are the most beautiful things I have ever seen. Why does he keep them hidden away? He could rule the world with those wings._

Later, much later, when she was back at Longbourn she would wonder that the portrait that had so arrested her in Pemberley also had no wings. But now she was just enjoying being able to look at them. _No wonder Caroline was so pushy with wanting him. These wings seem to call me to do things_. Again, she reached out without realizing it, but this time she did gently touch his wings. She was not disappointed with their silkiness. They felt like no feathers she had felt before. Their texture seemed magical, and she desperately wanted to push her entire hand into his wings, but suddenly she came back to herself and yanked her hand away, blushing furiously.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Darcy did not notice Elizabeth’s blush because he was too busy turning red himself. When Elizabeth had reached out and touched one of his feathers, it seemed to set his whole body aflame. His wings were always sensitive, and probably more so since only Georgiana and Darcy touched them, but he had never experienced anything close to this. Once, when he was a child, Wickham who had somehow found out about Darcy’s wings, had plucked one of his feathers off. It had burned and hurt for weeks after, but it had been less surprising than watching Elizabeth’s hand descend to stroke him. Her touch zipped along his whole body, and he knew he would be feeling it the rest of his life.

Their eyes met, and the cheeks of both were overspread with the deepest blush. Darcy started and felt himself immovable from the surprise of it all but tried to recover himself quickly enough. He tried to speak with as much civility as he could muster because he knew his composure was a disaster.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elizabeth stood, caught by Darcy’s gaze. She was astonished, confused, and scarcely dared lift her eyes to his face, and knew not what answer she returned to his civil inquiries after her family. Amazed at the alteration of his manner since they last parted, every sentence that he uttered was increasing her embarrassment; and every idea of the impropriety of her being found there recurring to her mind, the few minutes in which they continued were some of the most uncomfortable in her life. Nor did he seem much more at ease; when he spoke, his accent had none of its usual sedateness; and he repeated his inquiries as to the time of her having left Longbourn, and of her having stayed in Derbyshire, so often, and in so hurried a way, as plainly spoke the distraction of his thoughts

At length, every idea seemed to fail him; and, after standing a few moments without saying a word, he suddenly recollected himself, “Ah, Miss Bennet, please forgive me. I really need to – ” He broke off as he struggled to pull in his wings. “I would be so pleased to meet your companions,” he said after learning that Elizabeth and her aunt and uncle were touring the area. “but,” He seemed to be struggling to get his wings to corporate and he tried to bind them without any good results.

Elizabeth would have laughed except his frustration was so clearly real, and she herself felt the awkwardness of the meeting. _I wish he would let me help him._ She imagined touching his wings again, and her heart felt like it was beating rather quickly.

“I am so sorry, Miss Bennet. Do excuse me.” He gave her a bow, which seemed quite strange with the way his wings bobbed too. She waned to tell him that he clearly was not made for bowing, but he already took off down the path rather quickly, pulling his wings down.

Elizabeth tried to shrug but was more affected than she cared to admit. Soon enough her aunt and uncle appeared on the path.

“Lizzy, who was that we saw disappearing to the house? That could not have been Mr. Darcy?”

“It was.” She allowed herself a breath, “Come, we must leave here at once.”

“Why? Was he displeased?”

“What did he say?”

“Oh, nothing of consequence. He asked after my family and that kind of thing, come on.” She set a quick pace back to where their carriage had been held, hoping to get there quickly. As soon as Darcy had turned his back, the spell had seemed to be broken, and Elizabeth was crushed by the inappropriateness of it all. She wanted to disappear and certainly needed to get away from Pemberley to try to think through things with a bit more of a level-head. Her thoughts were all fixed on that one spot of Pemberley House, whichever it might be, where Mr. Darcy then was. She longed to know what at the moment was passing in his mind—in what manner he thought of her, and whether, in defiance of everything, she was still dear to him. Perhaps he had been civil only because he felt himself at ease; yet there had been that in his voice which was not like ease. Whether he had felt more of pain or of pleasure in seeing her she could not tell, but he certainly had not seen her with composure

Just before they reached their carriage though, Darcy, himself, came galloping up to them. He had clearly been helped into whatever he used to bind his wings, _Oh that must be so uncomfortable. I wonder why he does that to himself._ Elizabeth got a little lost looking at him and did not even notice that she was listing forward as if to touch him again. He looked much more presentable and like Elizabeth remembered him from Netherfield and Rosings.

When Darcy reached them, he asked her if she would do him the honor of introducing him to her friends. This was a stroke of civility for which she was quite unprepared; and she could hardly suppress a smile at his being now seeking the acquaintance of some of those very people against whom his pride had revolted in his offer to herself. “What will be his surprise,” thought she, “when he knows who they are? He takes them now for people of fashion.”

The introduction, however, was immediately made; and as she named their relationship to herself, she stole a sly look at him, to see how he bore it, and was not without the expectation of his decamping as fast as he could from such disgraceful companions. That he was surprised by the connection was evident; he sustained it, however, with fortitude, and so far from going away, turned back with them, and entered into conversation with Mr. Gardiner. Elizabeth could not but be pleased, could not but triumph. It was consoling that he should know she had some relations for whom there was no need to blush. She listened most attentively to all that passed between them, and gloried in every expression, every sentence of her uncle, which marked his intelligence, his taste, or his good manners.

The conversation soon turned upon fishing; and she heard Mr. Darcy invite him, with the greatest civility, to fish there as often as he chose while he continued in the neighborhood, offering at the same time to supply him with fishing tackle, and pointing out those parts of the stream where there was usually most sport. Mrs. Gardiner, who was walking arm-in-arm with Elizabeth, gave her a look expressive of wonder. Elizabeth said nothing, but it gratified her exceedingly; the compliment must be all for herself. Her astonishment, however, was extreme, and continually was she repeating, _Why is he so altered? From what can it proceed? It cannot be for me—it cannot be for my sake that his manners are thus softened. My reproofs at Hunsford could not work such a change as this. It is impossible that he should still love me_.

After walking some time in this way, the two ladies in front, the two gentlemen behind, on resuming their places, after descending to the brink of the river for the better inspection of some curious water-plant, there chanced to be a little alteration. It originated in Mrs. Gardiner, who, fatigued by the exercise of the morning, found Elizabeth’s arm inadequate to her support, and consequently preferred her husband’s. Mr. Darcy took her place by her niece, and they walked on together.

After a short silence, the lady first spoke. She wished him to know that she had been assured of his absence before she came to the place, and accordingly began by observing, that his arrival had been very unexpected—“for your housekeeper,” she added, “informed us that you would certainly not be here till to-morrow; and indeed, before we left Bakewell, we understood that you were not immediately expected in the country.”

He acknowledged the truth of it all and said that business with his steward had occasioned his coming forward a few hours before the rest of the party with whom he had been travelling. “I had also wished to stretch my wings a little.” Here he turned a bit pink, and Elizabeth felt the unaccountable desire to grab his hand and tell him they were beautiful and nothing to be ashamed of. _I do not even know that he_ is _ashamed of them._ She tried to chastise herself, but she had to attend to the conversation because Darcy had continued to talk, “The party will join me early to-morrow,” he continued, “and among them are some who will claim an acquaintance with you—Mr. Bingley and his sisters.”

Elizabeth answered only by a slight bow. Her thoughts were instantly driven back to the time when Mr. Bingley’s name had been the last mentioned between them; and, if she might judge by his complexion, his mind was not very differently engaged.

“There is also one other person in the party,” he continued after a pause, “who more particularly wishes to be known to you. Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintance during your stay at Lambton?”

The surprise of such an application was great indeed; it was too great for her to know in what manner she acceded to it. She immediately felt that whatever desire Miss Darcy might have of being acquainted with her must be the work of her brother, and, without looking farther, it was satisfactory; it was gratifying to know that his resentment had not made him think really ill of her.

They now walked on in silence, each of them deep in thought. Elizabeth was not comfortable; that was impossible; but she was flattered and pleased. His wish of introducing his sister to her was a compliment of the highest kind. They soon outstripped the others, and when they had reached the carriage, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were half a quarter of a mile behind.

He then asked her to walk into the house—but she declared herself not tired, and they stood together on the lawn. At such a time much might have been said, and silence was very awkward. She wanted to talk, but there seemed to be an embargo on every subject. Not the least of which were his beautiful, arresting wings. All she wanted to do was ask him about those, but he was clearly uncomfortable acknowledging their existence. At last, she recollected that she had been travelling, and they talked of Matlock and Dove Dale with great perseverance. Yet time and her aunt moved slowly—and her patience and her ideas were nearly worn out before the tête-à-tête was over.

On Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner’s coming up they were all pressed to go into the house and take some refreshment; but this was declined, and they parted on each side with utmost politeness. Mr. Darcy handed the ladies into the carriage; and when it drove off, Elizabeth saw him walking slowly towards the house. _Ah, I can see the bump clearly. I thought that was simply his back, but those are his wings. So tightly bound. It is cruel to himself, surely to bind them always._

The observations of her uncle and aunt now began; and each of them pronounced him to be infinitely superior to anything they had expected. “He is perfectly well behaved, polite, and unassuming,” said her uncle.

“There is something a little stately in him, to be sure,” replied her aunt, “but it is confined to his air, and is not unbecoming. I can now say with the housekeeper, that though some people may call him proud, I have seen nothing of it.”

“I was never more surprised than by his behavior to us. It was more than civil; it was really attentive; and there was no necessity for such attention. His acquaintance with Elizabeth was very trifling.”

“To be sure, Lizzy,” said her aunt, “he is not so handsome as Wickham; or, rather, he has not Wickham’s countenance, for his features are perfectly good. But how came you to tell me that he was so disagreeable?”

Elizabeth excused herself as well as she could; said that she had liked him better when they had met in Kent than before, and that she had never seen him so pleasant as this morning.

“But perhaps he may be a little whimsical in his civilities,” replied her uncle. “Your great men often are; and therefore I shall not take him at his word, as he might change his mind another day, and warn me off his grounds.”

Elizabeth felt that they had entirely misunderstood his character but said nothing.

“From what we have seen of him,” continued Mrs. Gardiner, “I really should not have thought that he could have behaved in so cruel a way by anybody as he has done by poor Wickham. He has not an ill-natured look. On the contrary, there is something pleasing about his mouth when he speaks. And there is something of dignity in his countenance that would not give one an unfavorable idea of his heart. But, to be sure, the good lady who showed us his house did give him a most flaming character! I could hardly help laughing aloud sometimes. But he is a liberal master, I suppose, and that in the eye of a servant comprehends every virtue.”

Elizabeth here felt herself called on to say something in vindication of his behavior to Wickham; and therefore gave them to understand, in as guarded a manner as she could, that by what she had heard from his relations in Kent, his actions were capable of a very different construction; and that his character was by no means so faulty, nor Wickham’s so amiable, as they had been considered in Hertfordshire. In confirmation of this, she related the particulars of all the pecuniary transactions in which they had been connected, without actually naming her authority, but stating it to be such as might be relied on.

Mrs. Gardiner was surprised and concerned; but as they were now approaching the scene of her former pleasures, every idea gave way to the charm of recollection; and she was too much engaged in pointing out to her husband all the interesting spots in its environs to think of anything else. Fatigued as she had been by the morning’s walk, they had no sooner dined than she set off again in quest of her former acquaintance, and the evening was spent in the satisfactions of an intercourse renewed after many years’ discontinuance.

The occurrences of the day were too full of interest to leave Elizabeth much attention for any of these new friends; and she could do nothing but think, and think with wonder, of Mr. Darcy’s civility, of his wishing her to be acquainted with his sister and, above all, his glorious wings that he so assiduously kept hidden from others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This title is from “Ode on Melancholy:”  
> No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist  
> Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;  
> Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd  
> By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;  
> Make not your rosary of yew-berries,  
> Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be  
> Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl  
> A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;  
> For shade to shade will come too drowsily,  
> And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.
> 
> But when the melancholy fit shall fall  
> Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,  
> That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,  
> And hides the green hill in an April shroud;  
> Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,  
> Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,  
> Or on the wealth of globed peonies;  
> Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,  
> Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,  
> And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.
> 
> She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die;  
> And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips  
> Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,  
> Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:  
> Ay, in the very temple of Delight  
> Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,  
> Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue  
> Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;  
> His soul shalt taste the sadness of her might,  
> And be among her cloudy trophies hung.


	3. Much Have I Travelled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kind notes, y'all! Some of your comments helped so much (and the reason I got water back!!!!). I am doing much better - I have water and there seems to be no pipe damage (yay!). All of my county is on a boil notice (probably through Wednesday at the earliest) though, so I am still needing to boil up lots of water. It is a hassle, but I am glad I came through it seemingly alright (as has my family! There were some scary days, especially for my poor sister and then my brother who is probably going to struggle the most with the rebuild). This is likely going to be a difficult week (I am especially nervous for my students), but hopefully we can work together and help each other out! Stay safe out there, all of you! And may this chapter be a bit of fun (and help us feel like we have some measure of control as Darcy sees he does).

Darcy had been so happy the past few days. _I should have known something terrible was coming. Mother did always whisper about my curse of wings, the devil’s wings, and maybe she was right after all._ He had actually been questioning his mother’s opinion because Elizabeth had not treated him with any sort of disdain or disgust after seeing his wings. In fact, she had been more welcoming to him than he had any right to expect. However, he still wondered if Elizabeth was merely being her polite gracious self. _Not that she has really tempered her tongue in the past. Perhaps she is just waiting for the right moment._ Would she shout it out one day, maybe to Caroline Bingley, just because they were so horrific? His instinct said no, and his wings seemed itching to get out of their binding to caress them again. For much of his life, they really felt like separate entities, but with Elizabeth Bennet they seemed unified. Both is wings and his heart wanted her. He could not help but want to soak up her presence and found himself going to see her at the smallest excuse, which was why he was there to hear her terrible news, coming upon her just after she read a terrible letter from her sister Jane.

 _How? How can it be true? Must Wickham forever dog my footsteps? Why must he ruin people’s lives_? He had left her with her aunt and uncle and knew he wanted to hurry home but felt, unaccountably, the need to fly. He decided it mattered more to be home as quickly as possible and that maybe he was tired of hiding his wings so much. Just outside of Lambton he stripped off his great coat and undid his wings. The complicated buckles and tight, near magical material that had been developed for just this purpose (although rumors abounded that many people, women and men alike, used it to craft their bodies to look the most attractive, leading to several misleading marriages where neither partner had been exactly honest about their bodies before the wedding night demanded they come unadorned to their partner. It had become something of a game in the last century to listen carefully at the newlywed’s door to hear the tell-tell screams) came undone quickly at Darcy’s deft handling. He finally let them unfurl.

He reached Pemberley faster than he would have thought possible. _They really are useful for travel. Could, should, I use them more often?_ And immediately set to packing. _I will start in London, but I am not sure where Wickham could be with Miss Lydia. It is a big city to allow them to disappear into it._ He had not realized that he was getting progressively louder with his packing.

Winston, his valet, stood off to the side, wondering how he could help his master who had waved him away when he started furiously packing. Although Winston was one of the few people who had regularly seen Mr. Darcy’s wings, he still rarely got to see them unbound. Now, Mr. Darcy had his wings out in full display, and they looked breathtaking. But clearly his master was distressed if he did not care who saw. He must have gotten some urgent news. Winston decided that maybe his master needed his sister’s help.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Georgiana cautiously knocked on the door of her brother’s room after Winston had contacted her. “William?” She peaked into the open door and was astonished to see her brother’s wings dominating his room as he moved back and forth quickly. “Here. You are making a mess of that. Tell me what is going on as I resettle your things.” Georgiana directed her brother forcefully.

To her mild surprise, Darcy immediately capitulated, letting her take over the bag he was packing for himself. But he remained silent. “William. Tell me what happened. It has to do with Miss Bennet, I am sure.”

Darcy nodded a bit uncertainly. “It does, but this will pain you to hear, I think.”

“I like her a great deal. I would rather hear the pain than wonder why she disappeared out of our lives.”

Darcy sighed deeply. “It is just that . . . well, you know she has four sisters.”

“Yes. She told me.”

“One of them was away from home these past months and apparently she has run away, thinking she was going to marry someone –”

“And you think the man she ran away with will not marry her?”

“Yes. I fear exactly that. It would ruin all of the Bennet sisters.”

“Including Miss Elizabeth. Brother, you must help them. Are you going to find the couple and force the man to go through with the marriage?”

Darcy breathed deeply, “That is my goal. But I do not know where to look for them. And . . . well, the man is-”

“Mr. Wickham. I had worked that out myself.” Georgiana said dismissively. Darcy looked at her in surprise, but she tried to project certainty and calmness. Inside she was roiling, but she knew her brother needed her to be strong at this moment. “It is a good thing you know he often works so closely with that Mrs. Younge. I warrant that if you visit her, she could tell you where they are hidden.”

Darcy looked at her in shock. “Georgie, you are brilliant.”

“I know.” Georgiana allowed herself to smile quickly at her brother, “I even know exactly where I put the last address she gave me.” Georgiana went to go fetch it, and Darcy felt a bit more like himself. He sat down to sketch out a plan to make sure Mrs. Younge was honest with him. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Darcy knew this was the place. He had used the address Georgiana had given him to track down the last three, but Mrs. Younge was here. However, he also knew she would not easily, or readily, talk to him. He bit his lip. _This is a stupid plan. It will not work._ He paced a little back and forth, keeping her door in his sights, though he knew he was well hidden in the shadows in the alley across the street. _This is not a stupid plan. This will work. Either way, something must be done. Elizabeth needs your help, man. You do not want to let her down._ With his pep talk done, Darcy worked to unbind his wings. He was so thankful that Georgiana had gotten him these wing-accommodating clothes. _I suppose I should pick up a few more just in case._

Darcy approached Mrs. Younge’s door with purpose, his wings spanning out behind him. Several people stopped on the street, arrested by the beauty and power of the wings that adorned the back of a man who was clearly a gentleman. They wondered how they had not heard about him before. Most of the winged in the aristocracy were well talked about, and those wings were something unforgettable in their formidable, commanding splendor. Darcy was unaware of these looks, trying to focus on the task at hand.

He knocked on her door, reading his walking stick to jam the door open if necessary. Mrs. Younge happened to be just in the door when the maid opened it. “Mrs. Younge.” Darcy said with purpose, feeling a bit gleeful when the maid tried to shut him out and he was ready to stop her attempt. “I am afraid you will not be able to escape this conversation.” He pushed his way inside, brushing slightly against the maid as he gained entrance.

The maid began trembling as the strong gentleman moved past her with his great, sweeping wings. “You cannot escape? Ma.a…adam, look at his wings! What have you done to call down the Angel of Death to your door?”

Darcy watched in consternation as the maid ran from the premises. He blushed and felt shame burning at the confirmation of how terrible his wings were but gritted his teeth, deciding to use it. “Yes, Mrs. Younge. I have come for you. Unless you can give me some information that I seek. Immediately. Accurately. And at once. Perhaps then I will spare you for another time.”

“I knew you would look like him. I knew it. He was always too stern, too in control, and too handsome.” Mrs. Younge simmered at him.

He looked at her a bit in shock. _Does she literally believe me to be the Angel of Death?_ He almost started laughing, but he knew how important it was that he keep himself together. “You will tell me, directly, where George Wickham can be found.”

“Blast that man. He is always getting me into trouble. But you have to understand that he is such a sweet talker and …”

“Do you think, madam, that I care about your prattling reasons? Give me the information!” Darcy felt himself rather emboldened by how enjoyable it was to be seen as a mythic figure.

He got the information rather quicker, and certainly cheaper, than he expected.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Darcy sat in his London house rubbing his head. It had been aching ever since he managed to find where Wickham had been squirreled away with poor, foolish Lydia Bennet. He had to escort Wickham back here and essentially threaten him while they waited for the marriage to take place. _Dealing with Wickham has always been the worst experience. He is either charming you, so you do not understand what he is taking or being overtly cruel. I cannot believe that poor girl is going to have to marry him, but I just do not see another way. They have been living together so openly. It is all too well known_. _At least she desperately wants the marriage. Perhaps she will be pleased with it._

He reached behind himself again, absently rubbing at his wings. Since he had been letting them out more, it was becoming more and more difficult to keep them bound. Darcy even played with the idea of just leaving them out for good, but he did not think he could handle the fall out of that until he was at least engaged. _As if that is ever going to happen_. He let his head sink into his hands, and he rubbed and pressed against the points that seemed to be aching.

_Seeing Elizabeth has shown me two things at least. I cannot simply let myself wallow or try to will myself to feel better. And I can address the things she held against me. Not only can I, but I should address them. Wickham, of course, has been painfully sorted, even if I do not think anyone will be satisfied by its outcome. But what about Bingley. I need to come clean with him, but I rather do want to see Jane with him. Is it still my pride that tells me I was not wrong there? Obviously, Elizabeth knows her sister best, but I am still not sure . . . Maybe once things have settled down, I will suggest that we go back to Netherfield Park?_

_But if we do that, I will see Elizabeth again._ He felt a painful dynamism run through his body, his head still aching. _I wonder what she will think. She was so polite to me at Pemberley, but what will happen when we are not in my home? She has now had time to think about the fact I have wings. Will disgust take her over?_

He felt frustrated and overwhelmed. To his surprise, all he wanted to do was go flying to release all of his pent-up energy, but he knew he could not do that. Not here in London at least. Everyone would see. 

_No. I have to make sure that Wickham marries Lydia Bennet. I have to make sure he follows through on what he has promised and then I will be able to give him the money, and send them on their way. Then, I can worry about talking Bingley into going to Netherfield, and I can finally address the wrong I did to Elizabeth’s sister._

Darcy tried to feel a little better about having something of a plan, but as he fell asleep that night, his wings twitching above him, all he could think about were the terrible next couple of days.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The wedding was as awkward and painful as Darcy had expected. It had a chilly atmosphere, and only Lydia seemed happy that it was taking place. _Poor foolish woman. I cannot believe she is happy about marrying_ him _. How can she not see what he already put her through? How no man who actually loved her would have done any of this?_ Darcy shook his head. He kept trying to tell himself it could not be helped. And, at least, Lydia _did_ seem to be happy.

Darcy sat stiffly at the wedding breakfast the Gardiners had graciously put on for the new couple. His wings twitched in their binding, as if demanding to be let out. _What is going on with my wings? They have been fine to be bound for almost three decades. Why are they now bothering me so much? I do not know how much longer I can stand to keep them this way. Would it be so terrible to always have them out?_ He was worrying this problem in his mind, and so Darcy missed the first part of the conversation. However, hearing his name and wings being mentioned he looked up.

Wickham was smirking at him, a bit cruelly, an expression Darcy had forgotten. He had seen it on George’s face only a few times as children. It had scared him then. Now, he just felt irritated and angry.

Lydia was leaning over towards Darcy asking loudly, “My Georgie-porgie” that at least made Darcy feel like smiling. _Wickham will not like that nickname_. “he tells us all that you actually have wings, Mr. Darcy? Real wings? And that they are a fearsome black, which is why you keep them hidden.”

Darcy looked at Lydia’s earnest face. He knew that she at least was not trying to be cruel. She simply did not think before she spoke. “You are right Mrs. Wickham.”

“Oooo, Mrs. Wickham. How nice that sounds.” She preened for a moment. “But why keep them hidden? I am sure if I had wings, I would let everyone see them always.”

Wickham snorted inelegantly, drawing Darcy’s eyes. “Why indeed, Darcy? Is it because-”

“It is because, Mrs. Wickham,” Darcy was sure to turn his attention to the poor, silly woman, “I am afraid I have a rather shy nature. I did not like the attention they gave me when I was young, and I was unsure of myself. But if you think it would be alright for me to unbind them, since everyone here seems to know of them, I will.” He looked around at the Gardiners who were hiding their astonishment well, but he thought he caught a hint of sympathy in Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes.

She smiled at him. “We would love for you to be comfortable, Mr. Darcy. However, that might look.” She assured him.

For some reason it was that comment, so innocuous on the surface but clearly tied to such a genuine desire for him not to feel ill at ease that convinced Darcy it was alright. He bowed his head to her and quickly unstrapped them, letting them spread out behind him. He barely managed to hide his smirk at Lydia’s over the top exclamations of their beauty and Wickham’s angry realization that he had not accomplished his desire of making Darcy feel pathetic. Quite the opposite occurred, and only Wickham was the one made uncomfortable. He was a little forgotten on his own wedding day because of his spiteful tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love this poem. It captures what it feels like to experience great art so well. I think about it a lot: “On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer:”  
> Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,  
> And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;  
> Round many western islands have I been  
> Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.  
> Oft of one wide expanse had I been told  
> That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne;  
> Yet did I never breathe its pure serene  
> Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:  
> Then felt I like some watcher of the skies  
> When a new planet swims into his ken;  
> Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes  
> He star'd at the Pacific—and all his men  
> Look'd at each other with a wild surmise—  
> Silent, upon a peak in Darien.


	4. The Hallowed Hour

Elizabeth walked in the garden with Lydia, feeling more than a little frustrated at how flippant she seemed about the whole affair. _It is like she does not even realize that she could have been ruined. That she could have been lost to us all. How can she be so stupid?_

Lydia turned to her sister, “Lizzy, I never gave you an account of my wedding, I believe. You were not there, when I told Mama and the others all about it. I am sure you are curious to hear how it was managed!”

“Not really,” replied Elizabeth. “I think there cannot be too little said on the subject.”

“La! You are so strange! But I must tell you how it went off. We were married, you know, at St. Clement’s, because Wickham’s lodgings were in that parish. And it was settled that we should all be there by eleven o’clock. My uncle and aunt and I were to go together; and the others were to meet us at the church.”

Elizabeth had never felt so tempted to roll her eyes before. Lydia was droning on and on, as if she was in any way interested.

“Well, Monday morning came, and I was in such a fuss! I was so afraid, you know, that something would happen to put it off, and then I should have gone quite distracted. And there was my aunt, all the time I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as if she was reading a sermon. However, I did not hear above one word in ten, for I was thinking, you may suppose, of my dear Wickham. I longed to know whether he would be married in his blue coat.”

Lydia seemed to sense Elizabeth’s waning interest, _Not that I was ever interested to begin with_ , and clearly wanted to pull her back into the story.

“Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual; I thought it would never be over; uncle and aunt were horrid unpleasant all the time I was with them. If you’ll believe me, I did not once put my foot out of doors, though I was there a fortnight. Not one party, or scheme, or anything. That morning, just as the carriage came to the door, my uncle was called away upon business to that horrid man Mr. Stone. And then, you know, when once they get together, there is no end of it. Well, I was so frightened I did not know what to do, for my uncle was to give me away; and if we were beyond the hour, we could not be married all day. But, luckily, he came back again in ten minutes’ time, and then we all set out. However, I recollected afterwards that if he had been prevented going, the wedding need not be put off, for Mr. Darcy might have done as well.”

“Mr. Darcy!” repeated Elizabeth, in utter amazement.

“Oh, yes!—he was to come there with Wickham, you know. And at the breakfast, you will never guess.” Lydia turned to Elizabeth and grabbed her hand. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at Lydia’s pure delight, “Mr. Darcy revealed that he is one of the winged! He had great big black wings that I thought were incredibly handsome, and I asked Wickham why he did not have some himself. But gracious me!” Lydia’s face paled, “I quite forgot! I ought not to have said a word about it. I promised them so faithfully! What will Wickham say? It was to be such a secret!”

“If it was to be secret,” said Jane, “say not another word on the subject. You may depend upon my seeking no further.”

“Oh! certainly,” said Elizabeth, though burning with curiosity, “we will ask you no questions.”

“Thank you,” said Lydia, “for if you did, I should certainly tell you all, and then Wickham would be angry.”

On such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth was forced to put it out of her power, by running away. Yet, she knew that she could not let it rest and set about writing to her aunt to get all of the particulars. Somehow, she found herself most interested in Lydia’s comment about his wings. _I wonder at him having them out. For so many months to have never seen them and now – they are out so much more often. Are they giving him more trouble now? Is he needing them to be unbound?_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Darcy found himself pacing his room at Netherfield. The past weeks had been a trying time for him on many accounts, first the wedding, then seeing Elizabeth while he was visiting on behalf of Bingley, and then finally his frustrating Aunt. He reached behind his head, scrubbing at his hair, trying to put pressure on his skull. _Not another headache_. He sighed and absently twitched his wings. Alone in his room, he did not want to bind them at all. They flared and stretched behind him.

Darcy had gone with Bingley to see if Jane was interested in him. Darcy was forced to admit himself to have been in the wrong, and he made a full confession to Bingley who was too generous in his forgiveness. Darcy bowed his head, feeling shame at the remembrance. _He said he was so sure I was doing it is on his behalf, he could not keep angry at me. What a gentleman. I do not deserve him as a friend, I think._ Darcy’s mind moved to when he had left Hertfordshire, unable to keep himself together. His wings had been driving him crazy, twitching, itching to be free. They almost seemed to demand Darcy let them free because thoughts kept coming to his mind unbidden – the feeling of his wing caressing Elizabeth’s cheek. However, at the time Hertfordshire was what he feared. Elizabeth was not cruel to him, but she did seem withdrawn.

Darcy forced himself to sit down and stop his incessant pacing. _I suppose it would not be surprising if it were my wings that put her off of me. If I had risen in her esteem at all, they could have brought her down. Yet, she did not seem troubled by them before, at Pemberley. Perhaps she is just trying to be polite, but does not want to give me false hope, so tempers herself around me. And yet if that were true how does that account for what she said to Aunt Catherine?_ That had been the most surprising part for Darcy. Lady Catherine had practically stormed into his London house demanding to see him. She gave him a full account of her conversation with Elizabeth _Did she honestly think that would make me want to finally marry Anne? The only reason Mother wanted me to be engaged to my cousin was so that my dreadful, shameful secret could stay within the family._

Darcy pushed himself up. “No. I am not going to hide anymore. I do not think it is so shameful, and I am not going to pretend like I have done something wrong just for being born winged.”

Darcy did not realize he was speaking aloud until Winston poked his head in. “Did you need something, sir?”

Darcy blushed a little, but then decided he did need something. “Yes, Winston, bring me one of my suits that accommodates my wings.”

“Very good, Sir.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elizabeth sat up staring out the window. She had only slept a little that night, but she was not that worried. She wanted to try and sort out for herself what was happening with Mr. Darcy. First, he had come with Mr. Bingley, but then he had been his typical cold, silent self. _Maybe he was waiting for me to be more talkative, but surely it is he who needs to show me that he does not hold my silly sister’s actions against me? Oh, I do not know. He almost seemed anxious last time he was over, and then he disappeared altogether._

Elizabeth had overheard Mr. Bingley say that Darcy had sent him a note to expect him back tonight, _so maybe I will see him tomorrow morning._ She continued to let her eyes search the fields in front of her. She could not see far through her window mostly because it was still quite dark out. The sun would rise in about an hour. Elizabeth groaned, and almost flopped herself back on her bed.

 _I do not feel like restlessly tossing back and forth and disturbing Jane._ So instead of going back to sleep, Elizabeth quickly got ready to go for a long morning walk. _Maybe I can finally make sense of everything that I am feeling._ She huffed at herself. _It is not as if it is some great secret from myself. I know what I feel. I just wish I knew what he felt now_.

As Elizabeth walked, she surprised herself with a brief fantasy. She envisioned Mr. Darcy flying down from the sky. His great black wings fading into the relative darkness of the early dawn. She almost giggled at her own meticulous imagining. She seemed to picture it well. He was wearing a great coat that flapped out with his wings, and his hair was getting quite tousled. He looked rather like he did when he accidentally fell into her at Pemberley. Elizabeth closed her eyes and called to mind the warmth of his arms and even more importantly the strange comfort that came from the encompassing of his wings. _It was such a special feeling. Powerful. Intense. So deeply comforting._

Yet, when she opened her eyes again, Mr. Darcy was still there, coming close to her. He was arching in patterns above her but was clearly wheeling his way down to where she stood.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Winston had quickly helped Darcy get dressed. Darcy felt excited. _I have never been flying in this area of the country before. I wonder what it looks like from the sky?_ His wings seemed to be quite happy with him as they twitched in anticipation. _Yes, we are going for a nice, long flight. You will get your exercise today_. He almost felt like he could hear them ask back if they were then to expect being bound up again. They were free right now but still seemed to itch to do something. _You are insatiable. How am I supposed to keep you satisfied if I do not know what you want?_

He managed to get himself out into one of the gardens of Netherfield and spring up into the air. He started by shooting as high as he could manage before letting himself drop back into a fall, finally letting his wings spread out to their length, just letting himself soar. That was his favorite part of flying. It felt rather like floating on your back in a nice cool lake. He breathed deeply of the crisp morning air, just about smelling of fall, and finally felt his body accepting contentment. His wings seemed to be pressing him in one direction, but it did not bother him. He happily followed, not worrying about anyone seeing him.

 _Who would be out this early? Well, alright that is kind of a silly thought. I am out in the country so probably a great number of residents are out and about early. I suppose I really do not care if people notice. Why should I care? What are they going to do to me? It is not as if it would hurt my feelings if they no longer invited me out._ He wheeled down slowly, making great wide circles. _Ah, there does seem to be a figure there. I wonder if they see me._ As he wound closer and closer, the figure was brought into sharp relief. Suddenly, Darcy let himself land rather abruptly.

“Miss Elizabeth!” He said after landing.

“Mr. Darcy.” She returned. She looked like an angel herself, wrapped in a soft great coat. The sun was just beginning to peak from behind the land, and it seemed to soak Elizabeth’s features in warmth.

“I . . . Well, I did not expect to see many people out this morning.” He tried to say frankly but struggled more with his words than he expected.

“No. I was not expecting to see anyone either. It has such a quiet-morning-feel still.” Elizabeth agreed. Darcy realized that she was not yet looking at his face. She was looking at his great wings. He unexpectedly wanted to hide them again and tried to close them up as unobtrusively as possible.

“Oh, do not do that.” Elizabeth seemed to speak without noticing.

“Why not?” Darcy asked her.

“They are lovely wings. They should not be hidden or made to look small.”

Before Darcy could consciously think of it, his wings seemed to agree. They puffed out a bit more exaggeratedly. _Oh. They have been itching for Elizabeth’s touch, of course. Ever since Pemberley they have not been satisfied. They want to feel her hand against them_. This realization brought a furious blush to Darcy’s face. He could only hope it was too dark for Elizabeth to see. _Her warm smile could be at my wings, not my face_. Darcy desperately told himself. He had to fight against the temptation to reach out with one of his wings and touch her cheek that seemed to be bitten a bit with the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from “The Eve of St. Agnes,” which is a bit too long to post here, so I am just giving y’all two lovely stanzas:  
>  She danc'd along with vague, regardless eyes,  
>  Anxious her lips, her breathing quick and short:  
>  The hallow'd hour was near at hand: she sighs  
>  Amid the timbrels, and the throng'd resort  
>  Of whisperers in anger, or in sport;  
>  'Mid looks of love, defiance, hate, and scorn,  
>  Hoodwink'd with faery fancy; all amort,  
>  Save to St. Agnes and her lambs unshorn,  
> And all the bliss to be before to-morrow morn.
> 
> So, purposing each moment to retire,  
>  She linger'd still. Meantime, across the moors,  
>  Had come young Porphyro, with heart on fire  
>  For Madeline. Beside the portal doors,  
>  Buttress'd from moonlight, stands he, and implores  
>  All saints to give him sight of Madeline,  
>  But for one moment in the tedious hours,  
>  That he might gaze and worship all unseen;  
> Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss—in sooth such things have been.


	5. The Maturing Sun

Darcy tried to gather his courage. He might not have expected to meet Elizabeth out here this morning, but he had come back to Netherfield with the express purpose of talking with her. He looked at her bright face and ached to hold her. To pull her into his arms and warp his wings around them both, shielding them from the world. He shook his head, trying to focus himself. “Miss Elizabeth, I have to say that I am so deeply sorry that you were troubled by my aunt. I fear there is no way I can make amends.”

Elizabeth stopped him. “After what you have done for Lydia and what I expect for Jane also, it is I who should be making amends.”

Darcy looked at her for one deep moment. “Please do not worry yourself. You must know - surely you must know, that it was all for you.” Elizabeth seemed to freeze.

Darcy took another deep breath and his wings twitched behind him, almost as if they were uncomfortable. But then, as Darcy started speaking, they began to stretch out more and more. _I feel like I am presenting myself to her. Am I something out of Audubon’s book about birds._ He could tell he was flushing all over but steeled himself. “You are too generous to trifle with me. Hearing what my aunt reported about your conversation has taught me to hope as I had scarcely allowed myself before. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me forever.”

He paused to give her a chance to say something, but Elizabeth was silent. He continued, “If, however, your feelings have changed. . . I could,” he sighed and tried to collect himself a little. His wings twitched forward, arching towards her. “I have to tell you, you have bewitched me body and soul and I love, love, love you.” He blinked his eyes rapidly, overcome by the aching feeling of love for Elizabeth. “And never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

Elizabeth looked at him and slowly smiled. “Well, then, I think you ought to know that my feelings have undergone a material change. . . they are quite the opposite.”

Darcy took a step towards her, one hand stretched out. Elizabeth took hold of his fingers. “You're cold.” She kissed his thumb, and Darcy felt his heart stop. _I cannot be this lucky._

He was so caught up in the extraordinary sensation of having Elizabeth caress his hand and brush her lips across it, he was quite unaware of how his wings were extending out to brush against her too.

When they did, she looked up startled, but smiling. His left wing grew bold and gently touched her cheek. Elizabeth surprised Darcy by leaning into it, and he felt like he was going to melt right there in front of her. He never expected to feel so complete. So happy. He could not account for it.

But then Elizabeth got a mischievous look in her eye. “I see here you have a set of magnificent wings, and it gets me to thinking -”

Darcy looked at her warily, “Yes?”

“Do you use them to carry heavy things? They are so large and impressive. Very different from the few winged I have seen before. I feel like you could probably carry a great deal.”

“I suppose I could.” Darcy responded, feeling a bit confused. “But, of course, I am not a pack mule.”

Elizabeth nodded her head. She looked at him with a teasing smile, “No. Of course not. But perhaps you could carry other things.”

Darcy started to slowly match her smile, “Miss Elizabeth, are you trying to get me to offer you a ride?”

Elizabeth looked up at him feigning shock but with a distinct sparkle in her eye. “Why Mr. Darcy that seems hardly appropriate.”

“Nothing inappropriate about it if we are engaged.” He tried to point out. Now that the thought existed, he desperately longed to have her in his arms as they soared above Hertfordshire. “There is nothing like it, truly.”

Elizabeth looked thoughtful for a pace, “Come on then.”

Darcy’s eyes widened. “You really want me to carry you while I fly? I have not done it since Georgiana was young. We got in a lot of trouble once we were caught.”

“As you say, there is nothing untoward about it if we are engaged. Besides, we should not see many people if you keep us high enough. They will not even know there are two of us up there. I have always wanted to go, and this is a part of you.” Here, Elizabeth touched his wings, stroking them with long sure moves, which caused Darcy to flush in pleasure. “I want to get to know it better if I am to marry you.”

Darcy nodded, “That makes sense. Come on then.” He looked at her for a second, “What I used to do with Georgie is hold her outwards, but that might be less safe since you are not a child.”

Elizabeth could not help by laugh. She felt herself grow bold and approached him, putting her arms around him while facing him. “I suppose this would be the safest way.”

He was surprised by the contact but found it delicious. “Yes. That should work. Here,” He took off his great coat and secured it around her. “This will keep you warm, and hopefully connected to me if something goes wrong, but I promise not to let you go.”

“I trust you.” Elizabeth breathed into his ear.

Darcy set off with great powerful strokes, shooting them up in the air. Darcy felt overwhelmed by having Elizabeth so close in his arms. He wanted her to enjoy her time and, perhaps, impress her with his flying. _She does not seem to hate me for my wings, and I want I give her every reason to enjoy them and not find them repulsive._ He beat them hard as they raced upward, propelling them far into the sky. He wished he could see her face more easily, but she kept herself quite close, which was also quite nice.

Once they reached a good distance up in the air, Darcy stretched his wings out wide, catching the air, and let them soar. His wings were capturing the light, and Darcy could not stop the shame of Elizabeth seeing them so clearly and for such an extended period of time. _What if she starts to hate them – they are so dark. Don’t they say something about my soul, my very self? What if she feels like this is unnatural and does not want to be with me?_ He did not notice that he was squeezing her closer to himself until Elizabeth squeezed back, and Darcy thought she tried to say something. He could not hear her, but her tone seemed positive. He thought.

He tried to breathe deeply. She would tell him if she had a problem. _It is one of my favorite things about her. She does not make people guess. She lets them know what she thinks. It is such a relief. So distinct from the typical women of the_ ton _who try to anticipate what I want and inevitably give me the opposite. If Elizabeth were miserable, she would let me know._ Darcy tried to console himself. Now, he focused his mind on giving her the best flight. He saw Oakham Mount and decided that looked like a good place to alight. From what he could tell no one else was near, and they should not be spotted. He wound down, trying to make her first landing very gentle.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elizabeth was glad she was already holding on because suddenly Darcy launched them both into the air. She wanted to scream but felt too breathless. _Oh my goodness. We are going right into the sky!_ She blinked in surprise and a little against the wind. He had shot them up quite straight, and Elizabeth happily watched his stunning wings beat aggressively into the air. She smiled and simply enjoyed being held so intimately by this kind man. _I think we will rather suit each other well. I might encourage him to talk more, and he already makes me want to listen to every word he says. Each word feels like a special jewel. And this flying! It is spectacular._

She felt Darcy tightening his arms around her, and so she tried to respond, tightening her own and calling out, “It is stunning up here. I have never seen anything like it!” Darcy did not respond, so Elizabeth figured he could not hear her over the wind, which was just as well. She did not really want to talk. She merely wanted to soak in the wondrous sensations she was experiencing.

 _How many people have gotten to do this?_ She felt herself unaccountably lucky, especially as she thought about the warm arms that encircled her. _He is the very best of men, and he is my own. He takes me for a ride simply because I asked_. _I cannot believe he is mine._ She looked at his great black wings. The sun was rising more and more, causing the tips to look like they were glowing or aflame. _I cannot believe he keeps these beautiful things hidden_.

She rather stopped thinking altogether as they continued flying. She was looking up at the sky and getting lost in how it almost seemed as if she were swimming in clouds. She wanted to share this with everyone she knew because surely everyone deserved to see it, but she simultaneously wanted to hide it from them and keep it just between herself and Darcy.

She felt them slowly descending, and she was a little disappointed. Darcy set her down with the utmost care and pulled back but did not quite let her go.

“How was it? Are you alright? Did you enjoy it? Did it scare you? Did I hurt you?” Darcy asked in a barrage of words, his nervousness and anxiety on full display.

Elizabeth laughingly stopped him, putting her hand against his dear cheek. “It was wonderful. More than wonderful. It was beyond anything I expected or have experienced. I cannot believe you get to do that whenever you feel like it.” She leaned in a little more to him, “It felt like something special. Like I got a glimpse of the Divine up there. You know?”

Darcy beamed at her, “Yes. I do know.” Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled, and Darcy gently put his hand on her cheek. “So, you do not mind I have wings.” He could not stop himself from asking.

Elizabeth pulled away in surprise, wanting to see his eyes better. “No, of course not. They are beautiful and a part of you, and if I love you, then I love them. Besides,” she teased a little, “I think it was when I first saw you with your wings, when you knocked into me at Pemberley that I realized I was in love for the first time.”

She might have been teasing, but it clearly meant a great deal to Darcy. “Really? You… you do not find them repulsive?”

Elizabeth looked at him and saw the true worry printed in his eyes. “Really. I find them beautiful and a marvelous wonder. Nothing bad connected to them at all. I am merely surprised you kept them hidden. That must be terribly uncomfortable for you.” 

He shrugged, “I have not always liked them. Well, that is not quite true. I have always liked them, but I have not always felt like I ought to like them.” Darcy seemed to be trying to steady himself and breathed deeply several times. When he spoke again, Elizabeth had to lean in to make sure she could hear, “Did you know, my mother hated them. She thought they were a sign I was marked by the devil. Or that I was the devil.” He spoke quietly and looked down.

 _She thought what?_ Elizabeth looked at the kind man in front of her with his glorious wings that had just taken her on the most unforgettable ride of her life. She was sorry he had lost his mother when he was young, but she felt herself growing angry at the dead woman. “What a ridiculous thing to think. I have never heard the like. As if you could be the devil. Your wings are luscious and a gift. Nothing devilish about them. How could she think that?”

“I think it was the color, but maybe the unnaturalness of it all – to have wings come out with your baby would be startling.” He tried to make allowances for his mother.

But Elizabet shook her head with seriousness. “Nonsense. Maybe she would have realized how ridiculous she was being if you ever took her on a flight. It was truly the best thing to ever happen to me.” Elizabeth seized his hand. _I do not suppose I will make him feel truly better about them in the space of one minute, but at least now I know that I need to try. And we will have the rest of our lives for me to help him build his confidence in his wings._ She got an impish smile and taking his hand, pulled him to start walking with her. “Imagine how much our children will enjoy you giving them rides.”

“Children!” Darcy was clearly startled, which Elizabeth rather enjoyed.

“If you are not too tired from all the rides you shall have to give me.” Elizabeth continued. “I am afraid I will keep you quite busy. We can see about getting a harness or something to strap me securely to you, so you do not worry about dropping me. Then I could see it as you do.”

Darcy could not help himself from laughing. “Oh, is that what we will have to do?”

“Of course. And we will have to decide how much you can carry because I am sure I will want to be there for the first time our child goes up.”

Darcy leaned down pretending to whisper to Elizabeth, “You do realize we do not have a child yet.”

Elizabeth tsked at him. “Only because you have not spoken with my father and gotten his permission to marry me.”

Darcy laughed. “I will do so as soon as we get back to your house.”

Elizabeth smiled and leaned against his arm as they walked, her smile only growing as she felt one of Darcy’s big black wings wrap around her, shading her from the growing sun. _I think I will always feel safe under his wings._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This title comes from the unbelievably beautiful “To Autumn:”  
> Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,  
>  Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;  
> Conspiring with him how to load and bless  
>  With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;  
> To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,  
>  And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;  
>  To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells  
>  With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,  
> And still more, later flowers for the bees,  
> Until they think warm days will never cease,  
>  For summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.
> 
> Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?  
>  Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find  
> Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,  
>  Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;  
> Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,  
>  Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook  
>  Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:  
> And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep  
>  Steady thy laden head across a brook;  
>  Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,  
>  Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
> 
> Where are the songs of spring? Ay, Where are they?  
>  Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—  
> While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,  
>  And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;  
> Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn  
>  Among the river sallows, borne aloft  
>  Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;  
> And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;  
>  Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft  
>  The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;  
>  And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.


End file.
